


When We Come Down (I Know It's Over)

by arysa13



Series: love's always on time [10]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is in love with Bellamy. He loves her too, but only when he's been drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Sober by Selena Gomez

“Clarke,” Gina says when Clarke picks up her phone. “Bellamy’s here. Can you come and get him?”

“Yeah.”

It’s the fourth night in a row that Clarke has had to go and pick Bellamy up from the bar Gina works at because he’s too drunk to drive home. And of course, she’s always going to do it. She doesn’t mind doing it, she’d do anything for him, and this isn’t really asking much. But she’s concerned about him. It was okay on Thursday, when he got the news that he hadn’t won the custody battle and Octavia was going to live with her rich father she barely knew.

It was okay on Friday, because it’s Friday and who doesn’t love a drink on a Friday night? Ditto for Saturday. But it’s Sunday now, and he has to work tomorrow, and Clarke is more than a little worried about him. He doesn’t normally drink this much, but he took the news about Octavia hard. Clarke doesn’t blame him, but she doesn’t think alcohol is the solution. She doesn’t know what _is_ the solution though, and she can’t really help him. All she can do is be there for him.

He’s waiting out the front for her when she arrives and he slides into the passenger seat sullenly.

“You didn’t have to come,” he tells her.

“What are friends for?” she says lightly, though her heart is aching at seeing him like this.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to stay at my place?” she asks gently, but trying not to sound like a coddling mother.

Bellamy shrugs emphatically. “Your place.” She drives him back to her the shitty apartment that she’s rented while she’s in her gap year, just to get away from her overbearing mother for a while. She unlocks the door and Bellamy immediately sinks into a lounge chair.

“You want to talk about it?” Clarke asks, hovering by his side.

“What is there to say?” Bellamy replies flatly. “I lost her.”

“You’ll still get to see her,” Clarke assures him softly. Bellamy snorts and Clarke knows it’s not what he wants or needs to hear, but it’s the best she can come up with. She perches on the side of the chair and puts an arm around him. “I’m really worried about you,” she whispers. “What can I do? What do you need from me?”

Bellamy gazes up at her with unfocused eyes, still clearly drunk. Clarke looks at him searchingly, and even in his drunken state, she’s still totally in love with him. She’s pretty sure he knows that, but he’s never really been in a place for a relationship anyway, even if he does feel the same.

“Clarke,” he says hoarsely, and Clarke feels a flutter in her chest, the way she always does when he says her name. It’s getting pathetic, really.

“Mmmm?” she hums. He doesn’t respond though, just pulls her in and kisses her, gently at first, then a little rougher and Clarke melts into him easily, his hand sliding under her shirt. Clarke has to steel herself and pull away before she can let it get any further. She wants him, and god, he’s an even better kisser than she’d imagined, but he’s drunk and upset and it isn’t how she wants to do this.

“Bellamy,” she says huskily. “You’re drunk.”

“Please Clarke,” Bellamy pleads, and her heart aches with how sorrowful his voice sounds. “I just need someone tonight.”

Clarke hesitates. “Okay,” she whispers, and Bellamy pulls her in again. It almost doesn’t matter that he doesn’t really want _her,_ he just wants someone. And she knows it’s probably a bad idea but she’s so fucking in love with him, and she can’t give him Octavia back, but she can give him _this,_ herself, if that’s what he needs for now. She never has been able to deny him anything.

-

He’s gone when she wakes up, and she can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. She had known it was a one time thing, but they’re _friends_ for christ’s sake and they’d crossed a line and god, it was good. _He_ was good, slow and gentle and perfect, and she hates that she might not ever get to have him in her bed again. It would be nice to talk about it, debrief. She knows he’s hurting, but she has feelings too.

She goes to work at the local art gallery, still thinking about his fingers on her skin, his tongue between her thighs, and she still knows it was a bad idea because now she knows what he feels like, what he can make _her_ feel like and she wants him so much more. But she can’t bring herself to regret it.

Bellamy calls her while she’s on her lunch break, and she’s relieved he’s not avoiding her.

“Sorry about last night,” he says.

“It’s fine,” Clarke assures him, though she’s not really sure if it is or not. “Are you okay?”

“A bit hungover,” he says. A pause. “I really am sorry. I feel like a dick. I shouldn’t have-,” Clarke cuts him off before he can apologise further.

“Bellamy, it’s okay, really. You were the drunk one. If anything I was taking advantage of you,” Clarke tells him.

“Okay,” Bellamy says reluctantly. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

-

It does happen again though, because Bellamy continues to drown his sorrows in alcohol and Clarke continues to pick up the pieces. She suggests he gets drunk at her place so she doesn’t have to go and get him every other night.

He walks in carrying a slab of beer and a bottle of whiskey.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says disapprovingly.

“Relax, it’s not all for me,” he tells her. Clarke purses her lips at him. “I’m tired of drinking alone. I figured it was the least I could do.” He grins at her and Clarke’s objections dissipate. She grabs the bottle of whiskey from him and takes it to the kitchen where she pulls out a couple of glasses. She’s pretty sure Bellamy’s already had a few, he’s at that easy talkative stage, and he’s happier than Clarke’s seen him in weeks. She normally gets him at the other end when he’s trashed and dejected, or when he’s sober and stoic.

“I guess we’re drinking this straight?” Clarke asks as she pours. “I don’t have any coke or anything.”

“It’s better straight anyway,” Bellamy tells her. “We should play a drinking game.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Bellamy,” Clarke says hesitantly. It’s bad enough she’s encouraging him to drink at all, let alone play a drinking game.

“Aw, come on Clarke, you’re such a spoil sport,” he pouts. “One game?”

“Fine. One game,” Clarke relents.

They end up playing never have I ever, which, since they know each other pretty well already, just turns into both of them trying to get the other drunk. Clarke is pleasantly inebriated and she’s forgotten all the reasons why she shouldn’t be getting drunk with Bellamy.

“Okay, we should play two truths and a lie,” Bellamy suggests.

“You said _one_ game,” Clarke reminds him. “And anyway it will be way too easy to guess the lie, we know each other too well.”

“Come on,” Bellamy grins mischievously. “You go first.”

“Fine,” Clarke huffs. She thinks for a moment, squirming under Bellamy’s heated gaze. She’s not sure when he started looking at her like that, but between her ever present crush on him and the alcohol clouding her brain, she’s not exactly thinking straight. “Okay. I once went two weeks without showering. I want to go skydiving one day. I think smooth peanut butter is better than crunchy peanut butter.”

“You could at least try to make it hard,” Bellamy snorts. “I know you love crunchy peanut butter.”

“I told you this would be too easy,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “You go.”

“One; I hate pineapple on pizza,” he pauses. Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. She already knows that’s a lie. “Two; what we did the other night was amazing and I can’t stop thinking about it,” he pauses again, searching her eyes for her reaction. Clarke bites her lip, her heart rate picking up. “Three; I really think we should do it again. Just once more.” Clarke doesn’t stop and think before she grabs him, pulling him in and covering his mouth with a hot, open mouthed kiss, because if she did she’d probably recognise what a mistake she’s making. But she doesn’t and she lets him drag her into his lap, push his tongue into her mouth, pull her t-shirt over her head and throw it to the floor. She grinds against him as his lips graze her jaw line, her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.

They hastily make their way to Clarke’s bedroom, trying desperately to be close to each other while discarding the rest of their clothing. Her skin burns everywhere he touches her and their kisses are rushed and frantic now, like they’ve both been wanting this for too long. Somewhere down inside she knows this means more to her than it does to him, but she doesn’t think about that now, just loses herself in him, and in the moment. What will happen tomorrow flickers somewhere in the back of her mind, but tomorrow can wait.

She comes with him thrusting inside her, holding onto him for dear life and he groans her name when he reaches his own climax.  He rolls away from her then, but he doesn’t move to leave and Clarke finds his hand with hers amongst the rumpled sheets and she falls asleep with her fingers intertwined with his.

-

She tries not to be too disappointed when he isn’t there again in the morning. It’s not like she was expecting him to stay. It’s just sex for him, she knows that. She’s mostly okay with it. It’s not like he’s leading her on, pretending he wants a future with her.

He doesn’t call her this time, or even text her, and she’s not sure if that’s because he assumes she’s okay with it (technically she initiated it after all), or whether he doesn’t care. She knows he’s got a lot to deal with and she doesn’t really blame him for not worrying about her, but she still feels like she’s waiting for him to acknowledge that it happened. That it was good and that she’s still important to him.

But he kind of just pretends like everything’s the same, which, she supposes, it probably is for him. They still hang out, along with their other friends, and Clarke tries to act normal. She thinks she does a pretty good job, considering every time she looks at him she can feel the ghosts of his hands and lips on her skin, the memory of him groaning her name at the forefront of her mind. She doesn’t think he’s aware of how much she pines for him, no more than usual anyway. But Raven notices.

“What’s going on with you and Bellamy?” she asks Clarke, a Saturday night a couple of weeks after the second time with Bellamy. The group is at Gina’s bar, and Raven is supplying her with drinks seeing as she’s too young to buy them herself. Bellamy is laughing with Miller by the bar, and Clarke likes seeing him happy, she just wishes the happiness was _real._

“What do you mean?” she responds to Raven.

“You seem to kind of tense up every time he gets near you,” Raven says, clearly concerned. “Did something happen? Did you tell him how you feel and he rejected you?”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head. She glances at Bellamy again. “We slept together. Twice. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“For him maybe,” Raven frowns. “Does he know how you feel?”

“I think he can’t be totally oblivious,” Clarke shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I wasn’t totally consenting. He needed someone and I was there.”

“That’s fucked up, Clarke,” Raven tells her. Clarke just throws back the rest of her drink and heads towards the bar for another. Bellamy spots her and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says. “Let me get that,” he hands some money to the person behind the bar before Clarke can object.

“Trying to get me drunk again?” Clarke suggests, trying to keep her distance. Bellamy looks a little ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I promise I didn’t go around to your house that night expecting anything to happen. It wasn’t… premeditated.”

“But it did happen,” Clarke says flatly.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“No,” Clarke sighs. “Forget it, Bellamy.” She turns to go but he places a hand on her waist, only gently, but it’s enough to make her stop. She looks up at him in confusion before he leans down to kiss her, and she forgets she’s not supposed to want him. She leaves her drink abandoned on the bar, her arms circling around his neck, tightening to keep him close to her.

Of course, Bellamy ends up back in her bed that night, and he whispers to her that she’s beautiful, that he wants her, everything she wants to hear.

“I don’t want to stop doing this, Clarke,” he tells her.

“So don’t,” she says, her voice shaky. But he’s gone again in the morning and Clarke wakes up alone.

-

Despite Bellamy’s inability to acknowledge their relationship (whatever that relationship is) when he’s sober, he keeps coming to her and she keeps letting him. She just wants him so much, and something is better than nothing, right?

“Bellamy,” she moans one night while his hand is between her legs and his mouth is on her neck. “Are you sleeping with anyone else?” It’s probably stupid to ask, she knows. But it’s important to her, because if she only gets this much of him, she doesn’t want anyone else to have him either.

“No, Clarke,” he says gently. “It’s only you, I promise.” And he says it so earnestly that she knows he means it, and she knows he knows it means something to her, and that’s enough for now.

-

Raven still disapproves. She doesn’t blame Clarke exactly, but she does think Clarke can do better than a man who only gives her half of himself.

“He only has half to give,” Clarke points out. “He’s been through so much. He had a hard upbringing. His mom died, his dad was nowhere to be seen. His break up with Gina.”

“It can’t have been that bad if he keeps going back to her bar,” Raven scoffs. Clarke ignores her.

“Octavia was the only thing he had left and he lost her to some old rich guy who hardly knew her,” she continues. Raven doesn’t look convinced.

“Look, Clarke, I know he’s messed up. He needs support. But if you keep going like this it’s only going to destroy both of you. Have you guys ever had sex while he’s sober?” Clarke gives a small shake of her head. Raven gives her a pitying nod. “Sometimes you have to do what’s best for yourself,” she says gently. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

_It’s a little late for that,_ Clarke thinks, but what she says instead is, “I’ll be fine, Raven.”

-

She is fine, mostly. Sure, she wants more than what she’s getting. She aches every time she wakes up and he’s gone, even though she _knows_ he won’t be there. Sometimes she wakes up before him, but he never really sticks around to chat. She should know better by now. Her heart shouldn’t clench every time he says her name softly. She shouldn’t get her hopes up every time he ends up in her bed. But it’s fine. She doesn’t mind. It’s enough.

And she really believes that, until he’s with her one night, and she’s beneath him, her legs wrapped around him, and he whispers amongst his dirty talk and sweet encouragement, “I love you.”

It just slips out of his mouth so easily that it hurts, because either he means it and he’s been holding it back, letting her think it’s just sex for him, _or_ (and this seems more likely), they’re just empty words. He’s not thinking about how those words might affect her, how much she’s wanted to hear him say that to her. She knows he probably won’t even _remember_ saying it tomorrow morning. And even if he does he’ll pretend he doesn’t. She can’t breathe all of a sudden and all at once she realises that this _isn’t_ enough. She can’t let him build her up every night then destroy her in the morning. She lets him go then, pushing him off her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in concern. Clarke doesn’t even know if his concern for her is real anymore. She feels like she’s lost him as a friend.

“I just changed my mind, okay?” she snaps. “I don’t feel like it. You should go.” Bellamy hesitates for a moment before nodding and rolling off the bed. Clarke doesn’t look at him as he gets dressed and walks to her bedroom door.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” he says, pausing by the door.

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, though she knows he won’t remember to call her. Bellamy nods again and leaves her. When he’s finally gone she lets herself burst into tears, sobbing into her pillow until she finally falls asleep in the early hours of the morning.

-

She doesn’t warn him when she drops by his place the following morning, which might be a mistake. She should have given him time to get dressed at least. He answers the door in nothing but his boxers, his hair a mess and his eyes still weary from sleep. He lets her in without saying much and Clarke steels herself for what has to come next. Does he know why she’s here?

“What’s up?” he asks her, as if she’s some random acquaintance who’s dropped around for the first time. Clarke takes a deep breath. She has to do this now, while he’s sober. When she knows he won’t say all the things she wants to hear, try to make her stay.

“Do you remember what you said to me last night?” she asks him first. Because she has a small glimmer of hope that maybe he meant it, and if he could just say it to her now, in the light of day, she wouldn’t have to leave him behind. He shakes his head though, and her heart falls. “You told me you loved me,” she tells him flatly, and she watches his expression change from confusion to guilt. That tells her all she needs to know.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…” he trails off. “I’m sorry,” he repeats lamely.

“I know. But I can’t do this anymore, okay?” Clarke tells him, her voice cracking slightly. “Because I’m in love with you, and I can’t keep pretending not to be. I’ve given you everything, and what you give me in return isn’t enough.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy interjects.

“Let me finish, please,” Clarke pleads. Bellamy falls silent. “I really want to be there for you, because god knows you need someone right now. But it can’t be me anymore. Sometimes I just have to do what’s best for me. You’ll still have Raven and Miller.”

“Clarke, look, I get if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, but surely we can still be friends? I need you,” Bellamy tells her, and Clarke has to take a deep breath so she doesn’t give in.

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke half laughs. “I don’t even feel like your friend anymore,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. “I feel like your booty call and I’m tired of listening to you lie to me every night.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to college in a month, and I don’t want to see you again in that time.” Bellamy looks stunned.

“Clarke, you don’t need to do this,” he begs her. “What I said… it’s not that I didn’t mean it, it’s just. I don’t… love you like that.” Clarke nods, and somehow it’s even worse hearing him confirm what she’d already known.

“I know. You love me as much as you can love anyone right now. It’s not your fault,” she assures him.  “Maybe… maybe one day we’ll meet again and we’ll both be ready for this. Whatever it is. But not now.” She’s proud of herself for sounding so calm, when on the inside she feels like her heart is being ripped out. But he did that every time he kissed her anyway, so it’s not that much different.

“I’ll miss you,” Bellamy chokes. Clarke nods. She doesn’t think she can say anything else without crying.

“Goodbye,” she manages, but the tears are already welling in her eyes. She kisses him on the cheek and quickly leaves before she can fall apart in his arms. They both deserve better.


	2. Now That I'm Clean (I'm Never Gonna Risk It)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been ages, and most people probably forgot about this story. But here's the second part I said I would write.  
> I also made a playlist to go with this fic and you can listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/arysa13/when-we-come-down-i-know-it-s-over)

She probably cries every night in the month before she goes to college, replaying their last conversation over and over in her head, and some part of her wishes he’d call her, but of course he respects her wishes and leaves her alone. Irrationally, she hates him for it. She knows it’s over, but it takes her heart a little longer to accept the fact.

Sometimes she thinks she made a huge mistake. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. The memories she conjures up of him in her bed, his skin on hers make her almost believe that what they had was actually _good._ She can barely breathe without him sometimes, the absence of him in her life feels like a gaping hole in her chest. But then she remembers what it was _really_ like with him, and honestly? It wasn’t any better. So she strengthens her resolve and deletes his number from her phone.

And then she goes away to college, and everything is new and different but it’s good, and it still aches when she thinks about him, but she thinks about him less. She does her best to think about how lucky she is, all the good things in her life, instead of dwelling on what she’s lost. And it actually works, sometimes. Sometimes she barely misses him at all, and then other times she swears she sees him out the corner of her eye, but of course it’s just another stranger, someone who doesn’t really look like him at all. Or she thinks she hears his voice outside her dorm room, or she hears a song that reminds her of him, or she reaches for him in the night, but he’s not there. She always cries on those nights.

It’s hard, getting over him, partly because he’d been her best friend for so long, but partly because part of her doesn’t really want to. Part of her still hopes that he’s going to realise he’s been madly in love with her this whole time and he’ll come racing to her dorm, begging her forgiveness. But the logical part of her knows it’s never going to happen. And even if it _did_ happen, she knows she could never just let him back into her life like that. If things are ever going to be right between them again, whether it’s as friends or as more than that, she has to move on first. So she stops hoping for him to show up, or to call her. Stops writing messages she never intends to send.

She hopes he’s okay, but she stops asking Raven about him, because it still hurts to talk about him, and she misses him and she needs to move on. She hopes one day she’ll stop missing him. But she kind of hopes he’s missing her too.

And slowly, she stops hurting so much, and one day she realises she hasn’t cried about him in a month, which of course makes her cry about him, but it’s progress. She doesn’t ache for him, she stops hoping he’ll call her to confess his love for her and tell her he’s sorry.

And then finally, she’s okay, for the most part. It takes her eight months, and maybe she’s a little bit more wary of relationships and falling in love, but she’s okay. And he’s still there, in her best memories and her worst, in her head and in her heart. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to be completely over him, which is hard to admit to herself, because they were only together for a short time, and even then they weren’t really _together_. But she can acknowledge that, and she can acknowledge that maybe a piece of her heart will always belong to him, but she can also say that she’s doing fine without him, that she doesn’t crave him or need him to feel whole.

She dates a little, but it’s never anything serious, because she’s young and she’s not ready to love someone with all her heart again. She’s not even sure she has a whole heart to give at this point, but at least what she does have is still beating. And she’s still breathing, and that’s something.

It’s been ten months by the time Raven and Abby finally convince her to come home and visit. Raven tells her she’s a bad friend and Abby tells her she’s a bad daughter for staying away so long, but they’re both happy to see her, which is nice. She’s only going to be there for the weekend so Abby claims her for dinner on Friday night, and Raven says she’s throwing a party on Saturday night.

Of course, it occurs to her that Bellamy might be at this party. She doesn’t want to ask, because she’s not sure what she wants the answer to be. As it turns out, she doesn’t have to ask.

“Bellamy’s coming, but I can tell him not to if you want,” Raven says. They’re at her place playing video games, a few hours before the party is supposed to start.

“No, it’s fine,” Clarke says quickly. She’s fine, and she wants to _prove_ that she’s fine. “I have to see him sometime.”

“He’s sober, you know,” Raven says nonchalantly. “I think he probably wanted to tell you that himself, so don’t tell him I told you.”

“He wants to see me?”

“Yeah. He still cares about you, Clarke.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She’s not sure what else she can say to that. She still cares about him too, but she’s not sure how she feels hearing that he’s sober and that he cares. Clarke ten months ago might have run straight back in to his arms if she’d heard that. Clarke now just feels anxious.

The party is in full swing by the time Bellamy gets there, and Clarke has almost forgotten he’s even coming. She’s dancing with Raven when he walks in, that easy swagger so familiar to her, and they make eye contact almost immediately. Clarke’s heart stops beating for a moment before it starts racing in her chest and she feels like she might vomit. Raven notices and swings around to see him standing there.

“Are you okay?” she asks Clarke as Bellamy strides over. Clarke just nods shortly.

He looks good, of course, and Clarke hates that. She hates that it only took one look to realise she still wants him. That the second he walked into the room it felt like he’d put a fist around her heart, squeezing the fragile thing she’s only just managed to put back together.

She wonders how he feels about seeing her again. She’d been hurt by him, and she’d hurt herself when she left him, but she thinks she probably hurt him too, and according to Raven he’s doing well, but she wonders if it’s possible that she could have the same effect on him as he does on her.

“Hey,” Bellamy says when he reaches her.

“Hey,” Clarke swallows.

“How are you?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine,” Bellamy nods. She hates that it’s like this. She wishes it could be as easy as when they’d been just friends, when there was never a shortage of anything to say to him, but they could also just sit in comfortable silence, content with each other’s presence. But now she doesn’t know what else to say to him, and the charged silence echoes in her ears, lets her thoughts race, memories rise, and she can hardly bear it.

She thinks there’s probably things he wants to say to her, things that he can’t say in a crowded room, but he won’t speak, or maybe he finds that he _can’t_ speak. She understands that feeling.

“I need some air,” she says, and Bellamy glances at Raven who just raises her eyebrows at him.

“I’ll come with you?” he says it like a question, and Clarke nods her assent. She doesn’t look behind to see if he follows her, just assumes he will, and she heads out onto Raven’s back porch. She hears his footsteps behind her and the slamming of the back door, and she takes a deep breath, willing herself to be okay. She doesn’t know what he wants from her, if anything, but she knows she has to be strong.

Bellamy is silent for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come back,” he says, and Clarke tenses as he stands beside her.

“I almost thought I might not,” she admits. They’re alone in the dim glow of the porch light, the stars twinkling down on them and under other circumstances this could feel so romantic.

“How have you been, really?” he asks her.

“Lately? Fine,” she tells him truthfully. “I promise. And you? Really?” She manages to turn and look at him, leaning against the porch railing.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “I, uh, quit drinking.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Eight months sober. It hasn’t been easy but Octavia’s dad said he wouldn’t let me see her anymore if I didn’t sober up. Raven and Miller helped me.”

“No AA meetings then?”

“No,” Bellamy chuckles. They’re silent again, and Clarke waits for him to speak, sensing that he has more to say. “I know this is probably too little too late, but I really am sorry. For how I treated you.”

“I know.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“It’s already done,” she says, and it’s not even a lie. She even manages a small smile. But she’s still torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to break down into tears. She’d been so much better when he wasn’t standing here in front of her, looking like every dream she’s ever had of him.

He seems nervous now, and Clarke feels her stomach drop, and she hopes he doesn’t say something they’ll both regret.

“Clarke,” he starts, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I made such a huge mistake. I should’ve realised…” he pauses.

“Don’t,” Clarke warns him. She can’t bear to hear his regrets. It’s too much. It’s not enough. He’s ten months too late.

“Yeah,” he swallows. “I just want you to know that I do love you,” Clarke feels her heart clench, “and I know it’s too much to ask for you to still love me, after everything. But do you think we could be friends again? I miss you like crazy.”

“I can’t Bellamy,” she says, her voice strained. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” he nods sadly. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Clarke shakes her head. “Because I do still love you, and I still want you. But I was fine, until I saw you walk in here, and suddenly I needed you again, and I just want you to hold me but I _can’t_ let you. So I don’t think we can be friends again until I don’t feel like that anymore.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, almost desperately.

“I’m not saying never,” Clarke promises. “But when we start again, it’s got to be brand new, okay? Can we just… see where we are in five years? I don’t mean putting our lives on hold for each other… I just mean… getting on with things. And in five years, we’ll just… see.”

“Five years,” Bellamy nods. “God, I don’t know if I can go that long without you.”

“You will,” Clarke tells him, and she has tears in her eyes now, and this is almost harder than saying goodbye the first time.

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Clarke wishes things were different so she could kiss him.

“I should go,” Bellamy says finally. “I shouldn’t even really be here, what with everyone drinking. Too much of a temptation.”

“I understand,” Clarke nods.

“God, I wish you’d kiss me,” Bellamy laughs.

“Maybe one day,” Clarke smiles at him through her tears.

“Don’t forget me,” Bellamy jokes. “I don’t expect you to keep your heart on a shelf or anything… but save a little bit for me, okay?”

“You too,” Clarke says.

“I will,” Bellamy promises.

“Even if it takes ten years?”

“Even if it takes a thousand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't the happy ending y'all were probably hoping for, but I hope that you still like it, and I hope I haven't just ruined this story by adding this part. Let me know what you thought?


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